Ever since the moment I decided to do this trip I have dreamed of making it to Miami. Seven years ago I did a trip from Florida City through the Everglades and past Key Largo with hopes of making it all the way to the beach by my friend’s office the final day. Bad tides and persistent head winds wore me out however and I finally called for a ride from Alabama Jack’s bar just north of Key Largo. As great as the trip through the Everglades had been for me, loosing the chance at the novelty of arriving right behind my buddies office, walking in and saying hi, was always a disappointment to me.

This time around I started plotting my arrival in Miami over a week in advance. It wasn’t the most important thing in the world, but in order to make the arrival on my “friend’s” beach work I’d have to arrive on a week day. There’d be no sense in having him drive to work on a day off to pick me up. All the way back in St. Petersburg I had carefully scaled the distances, found the camp sites, and calculated the daily mileages needed to make it happen. It all depended on the weather, of course.

As you may have read the first four days out of St. Pete I ended up staying with people in their homes which allowed me to put on extra miles and stay “rested” on days that normally would have started to wear me out. By the time I was back in my tent on Cape Romano last Monday things looked like they probably wouldn’t work out for reaching Miami. Instead of arriving at the office on Friday I thought I’d be spending an extra night on an offshore island and possibly paddling all the way up to Fort Lauderdale on Saturday. Which would have made a perfectly fine “plan B”.

Tuesday, however, brought a nice tail wind and I managed to put on some extra miles making it all the way from Cape Romano to Highland Beach in one day. Along the way I was stopped by some concerned game wardens that were wondering if I was OK as they don’t normally see paddlers out as far as I was. When I explained myself they relaxed a bit and were surprised to hear that I intended to spend the night on a beach twenty miles down the coast. When I explained that I have a 30 mile daily range and could do it they joked that their twin 250 HP Yamaha outboards could get them there in twenty minutes. As they sped off to do whatever it is they do I continued on at my comfortable 4 mph and reached Highland Beach well before sunset.

Matt. my neighbor on Highland Beach

On the beach watching my arrival through the whitecapping waves with binoculars was a young bearded man named Matt. He was on an extended trip through the glades and (heading north) was weathered in on the beach for the day. He had already scouted out the camp spots that gave some shelter from the wind and suggested a flat spot behind a thicket on which I quickly set my tent. We were both happy to have someone to talk to on such a sunny but blustery day and we visited until the descending sun and mosquitoes pushed us into our tents.

The next morning we both launched just before sunrise and said or good bys as he headed north and I turned south. It was Matt that suggested that the “inside” route through Whitewater Bay (and the maze of rivers and islands that make up the setting for the Wilderness Waterway) would be a great way to avoid the big winds that were predicted later in the day on Wednesday. My friend Russell back in St. Petersburg had also suggested that route noting that he knew of several people that had run it all in one day. I was leery because the few camp sites on the inside are on raised platforms (called cheekies) that are often occupied by other campers on weekends and difficult to access from kayaks even when they aren’t. That meant that once I committed to the inside route I’d have almost no choice but to make it all the way to Flamingo by the end of the day. After getting worked over in strong following seas for half the day Tuesday I was in no mood to repeat the experience on Wednesday so I decided the long run through the inside was worth it. Besides that almost all of my time touring the Glades had been on the outside and I was up for something new.

Calm water on the inside route to Flamingo

After seeing just how beautiful it is on the inside route I am very glad I made that choice. I ran a route along Joe river which runs east and west on the southern perimeter of the interior. The relatively narrow “river” provided ample shelter from the wind and I paddled mostly flat water all the way to Flamingo. I did have to work against the outgoing tide a bit but by working eddies along the banks I was able to make good time.

Giant mangroves at Shark River

Russell had mentioned the enormous mangrove trees at the entrance to the Shark River where I entered the inside route, but even his descriptions didn’t prepare me for just how huge the trees actually are. Most mangroves you see are relatively low growing plants with intertwined branches and exposed root systems that form almost impenetrable masses of foliage. It’s these tough trees that can withstand the hurricanes and tropical storms that tear through here every few years thus keeping the very low islands on which they grow from washing away in the big seas. I don’t know if it’s a quirk of the shape of the coast or bank erosion from the river, but at the Shark River the tallest mangroves that would normally be in the middle of an island (protected by those along the edges) are growing exposed right along the river. Towering well over 40 feet above the water with open air between the large trunks they look more like hardwood trees in a northern forest. It was only the shape of their leaves and exposed root systems that convinced me that they were indeed mangroves. It was inspiring to see the familiar scruffy low growing plants reach such lofty heights.

After reaching Flamingo I was helped around the dam that separates the Gulf from the interior by a kid named Alias who was working at the canoe rental outfit at the park marina. From there I paddled a mile back up the coast to the camp site and checked in. My neighbor in camp let me borrow his bicycle which I used to ride back down to the marina store to use the pay phone to check in. I was desperate to find out if anybody had replied to the e-mail my brother Luke sent to Florida Bay Outfitters in Key Largo. It was late notice but if I could spend the night there it would give me a better starting point for Miami the day after.

Sure enough the guys at FBO had replied and were up for a visit from me so the next day I pushed off from Flamingo and followed the network of channels across the shallows on my way to Key Largo. I watched my chart carefully and discovered that Low Key would be the southern most point of “land” I’d pass on this entire trip. After a few hours of paddling I reached the island and commemorated this turning point with a photograph and gulp of Gatoraid. I also called my mom with my cell phone and let her know I was finally on my way home.

Low Key the southern most land on this trip.

The actual southern most point

A few more hours of hard paddling brought me in to the “Florida Bay Outfitters” kayak shop. As I approached the shop from the water I wasn’t sure how to find it so I called on my cell phone. It was Joel who answered and he immediately remembered who I was and that we had met out in San Diego when I gave him and two of his friends a ride to San Felipe in Baja for the start of a 30 day trip down the length of the Sea of Cortez. We had to laugh at how small the paddling community really is. Joel hooked me up with a hot shower and the owner Frank, Joel, and Josh took me out for some Mexican food. Fra;nk let me crash on the floor of the store which saved me the trouble of setting up my tent allowing for a quick departure in the morning. I learned that trying to sleep next door to what must be the busiest biker bar in the Keys is a bit of a challenge and I didn’t really get much rest during the night. It probably had a lot to do with the excitement of trying to reach Miami the next day that kept me up as well.

One small corner of the Florida Bay Outfitters Kayak Shop

The next morning I got a very early start and was on the water by 5:50 AM with the wind already (or I should say still) blowing out of the NW at 15 mph. I knew it’d be a slog in the morning but the weather predictions showed that the wind was supposed to drop giving me a good chance to reach my destination on Virginia Key. The first few hours were challenging with the wind (and I’m convinced tidal flow) working against me I was moving a full mile per hour slower than my normal pace. Along the way I passed under the US Highway 1 bridge and commemorated the official end of the Gulf Coast and beginning of the Atlantic Coast legs of this trip.

It was a long day but the winds did slow and the rough choppy water I had been paddling in turned to glassy smooth. It was a great day made even better by finally arriving on Virginia Key to the welcoming cheers of my friends.

I can't imagine the thrill that must have been when passing under the bridge, leaving the Gulf of Mexico and entering into the Atlantic Ocean, marking the end of another significant phase of your amazing Project and the beginning of the next.

You share that emotion very openly in your writing and especially in the Video that you so generously provided. My eyes welled up with tears of happiness and gratitude as I read and watched. (What can I say, I'm an emotional old windbag).